


Night Caller

by bittenfeld



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Male Slash, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the Revolutionary War, Captain Ichabod Crane awaits special secret orders from General Washington.  As he waits that night in his cabin, a visitor arrives – a visitor with very definite plans for the two of them…</p><p>(and wasn't it great to see the Horseman shirtless ? - yesssss!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Caller

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a plot bunny – I don’t know when I’ll be inspired to fully write it out, so I just wanted to share it as is for now.
> 
> And just by coincidence, I came across this lovely piece of deviantArt by Prime01, that just happens to go perfectly (!) with my fic. The artist gave me permission to put the link here. Enjoy!  
> http://prime01.deviantart.com/art/Headless-horseman-x-Ichabod-437188522

Nighttime, Ichabod is in his cabin, reading or writing by candlelight, thinking about the last battle that didn’t go as well as hoped for. He is expecting a courier tomorrow from General Washington bearing new orders from the general. Earlier Washington had intimated that he will shortly have a very important mission for Ichabod.

Hoofbeats approach, then bootsteps stride up the three wooden steps to the cabin’s front porch. The courier is early.

“Come in,” Ichabod calls, rising to answer the door.

Suddenly the door bursts open. Framed in the doorway is a huge man in an enemy redcoat uniform, an officer with the gold insignia of a lieutenant colonel. The acrid scent of burning metal and blood billows around him. In his hand he wields a large broad-axe, the edge of which glows golden hot.

But the horrifying thing is, that makes Ichabod’s ribs clutch his heart: the man has no head!

All of this is ascertained in a mere moment.

But then, as the man strides into the cabin, and the candlelight illuminates him better, Ichabod sees that of course he has a head. But he is wearing a full-face black mask; and along with the black tri-corn hat, against the blackness of outside, it just looked like he had no head.

The momentary paralysis gripping Ichabod releases, and he grabs for his pistol nearby. He shoots, but obviously just wings the intruder, because the man jerks with the slug’s impact, but keeps coming forward, axe at the ready. Desperately, Ichabod glances around for another weapon, but his sabre and long-rifle are not within close reach. Of course, he wasn’t expecting an enemy soldier to just break in out of nowhere.

The rifle is hanging on the wall, so Ichabod lunges for it and grabs it, but a swing of the axe blade knocks the weapon from his hand. Then the officer’s free hand reaches up and grabs Ichabod by the throat, slams him back into a wall and pins him there.

And then this close, Ichabod sees something else startling – the man’s eyes through the mask’s eyeholes are completely whited out, glassy milky opaque orbs with no iris and no pupil. And yet the man is obviously fully sighted.

Nevertheless, Ichabod realizes his head is forfeit next, so he faces this strange enemy, ready to die bravely.

But instead, the intruder drops the axe, which clunks heavily to the wooden floor. Then the enemy officer reaches up, removes his hat and tosses it on the table. The man is bald, and several straps buckle around his head to hold the mask on. Ichabod sees a strange brand burned into the back of the man’s right hand: the scar of an arrow nocked into a bow. And then, taking the bottom of the mask, the man pulls it up and off his face.

In confusion Ichabod watches, wondering what strange inhuman demonic features will be revealed. But, save for the whited-out eyes, there is nothing inhuman or demonic about the man’s face. And then, still holding Ichabod against the wall by the throat, the man grins ferally, and the candlelight flickers off even white teeth.

Ichabod doesn’t know what to think. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he feels a surge of sexual desire – _dear lord_ , _where is_ that _coming from_? – and the enemy officer must be feeling the same thing, because then without a word, he leans forward and kisses Ichabod hard on the mouth. It’s a rough brutal kiss, but Ichabod finds himself wanting it, craving it – he doesn’t know why – yet he returns it, hard and passionate.

The kissing evolves into savage passionate sex. The enemy officer is forcing it, and yet it isn’t rape. Somehow they end up on Ichabod’s bed. Through it all, the man never says a word, never answers Ichabod’s questions (“who are you?” “what is this?”) Neither strips completely, but clothing is opened just enough to get at what needs to be gotten at. Ichabod is face down on the bed, trousers pulled down to his knees as the man penetrates him. Then pulling Ichabod up, so they’re both upright, Ichabod’s knees spread on either side of the man’s, the man gripping Ichabod under the chin, holding him to himself, he plows into Ichabod until they both come in spectacular climax.

Finally when they’re done, the man lets Ichabod collapse on the bed, then climbs off and straightens his clothes. In exhaustion, Ichabod rolls over onto his back and questions again, “Who are you? what have you done? You’ve ensorcelled me.”

 _No_ , the response echoes in Ichabod’s head, although the man still speaks not a word aloud. _Soon you and I will be bound together, and we shall remain so for all eternity_.

“I don’t understand,” Ichabod speaks out loud.

But the man only stands, grins again ferally, then leaves, and Ichabod collapses in utter exhaustion and goes to sleep.  
* * * * *

When he wakes up, the sun is shining. He wants to pass it all off as a very bizarre odd (wet) dream, even though he’s still dressed, and his clothing is disheveled, his ass is sore, and he’s spattered with semen. After he cleans up and changes clothes, he goes out to the main room.

And there on the wood floor, he sees the damning evidence: the charred crescent mark that the hot edge of the axe blade left where the man dropped it.

And it all comes flooding back – the passion, the sensuality. But now in the hard light of day, whatever ensorcellement there was is broken, and now embarrassment and a sense of self-betrayal wash over him. And over it all, complete utter confusion.  
* * * * *

After breakfast, the courier arrives. But rather than carrying orders from General Washington, he informs Ichabod that the general wishes to see him and give him the orders in person.

Ichabod forces himself to put aside the strangeness of the night, and accompanies the escort back to Washington’s cabin.  
* * * * *

“I have a mission for you of the utmost importance,” General Washington announces. “You must find and assassinate a certain officer of the Crown. No one has ever seen his face, but you will recognize him by several peculiar characteristics: he wears a black leather mask covering his entire face…”

Abruptly Ichabod’s gaze shoots up, and he stiffens, as his heart once again clamps in his chest.

“…and branded into the back of his right hand is the scar of a bow and arrow.” The general’s brow wrinkles in curiosity. “You seem to recognize what I have said. Have you already seen him?”

Ichabod forces down the tremor in his body and voice. “Yes, I… I have…” – _I_ have _seen his face_ … and _his eyes_ – “We… faced each other yesterday…” A tiny ironic, yet slightly troubled, smile wisps about his lips. “Had I… but known…”

“Well, then, you should have no trouble recognizing him when you see him again. Oh, and be forewarned: The broad-axe that he carries, through some unknown alchemy or perhaps devil’s magic, sears with great heat. I will tell you that you are the third man I’ve sent after him. There are reasons above all else that he must be stopped. However, be ever vigilant – the previous two men were found beheaded, their severed necks cauterized. I am entrusting this mission to you, Captain Crane, my finest soldier; though because it may very well be a suicide mission, I will allow you the option of refusal, if you so choose. Do you refuse, or do you accept?”

Ichabod swallows hard, as a swirl of emotions vie in his breast. “Of… of course I accept, General.” – _why didn’t he kill me when he had the chance_? _And who –_ what _– is he_? – “I only pray… that your generous faith in me is not misplaced.”

“I’m sure it is not. Godspeed, Captain.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ichabod steadies himself. “And… should I not return, Godspeed to you as well, General, in this great endeavor of ours.”

* * * * *  FINIS  * * * * *


End file.
